Back to the Future
by Beautiful Ally
Summary: Attacked by a creature, every time Sam falls asleep or looses consciousness he wakes up five years in he past. Now he has to figure out how to stop it before he gets to the point where he no longer exists.
1. 25 Years Old

_Disclaimer:__ Just refer to one of my hundreds of other disclaimers..._

_A/N:__Hey people! Check it out- another chapter story! To be honest, this idea was originally going to be one of my one shots, but then I got too excited by the idea of it, and realized it was too complex and too long of an idea to simply be a one shot, and it would be much better as a chapter story. I do have some bad news though to go along with this cool chapter story. I've taken off the story 'My Name is Sam Winchester'... for now. I don't have that story on this computer, and I feel bad with it just sitting on here unfinished. But I will some day post it back up again and return to it... don't fear. But for now it's being taken down, and replaced by this story._

_Speaking of this story... a quick synopsis you ask? Sam gets attacked by a creature (at the time being 30 years old), and then every time he falls asleep, or goes unconscious of any sort, he wakes up five years in the past. Fully aware of everything that has happened, and having the mind of current Sam, he has to struggle to figure out how to stop himself from soon going so far back in time that he no longer exists. I'm excited to be writing this story. I'm particularly excited to be writing the chapter of when Sam is only 5, and had to try to convince those around him what has happened. I'm also excited because through the course of this story I get to write John, Bobby, and whoever else I want. _

_Anyways... I hope you enjoy this first chapter- read and review it! :)_

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_Back to the Future_

"Dean quit it," Sam mumbled his eyes closed.

He didn't have to see in order to know that his brother was staring at him from the other bed.

"Sammy…"

Sam's eyes snapped open now and he looked over at Dean, "I'm fine Dean. I promise. We've had the crap beaten out of us before. I took some Tylenol; I'll be doing the hokey pokey by morning."

This got a partial smirk out of Dean, "Yeah, but it's not every time that a weird ass ugly thing—that we still don't know what it was I'll remind you—cold clocked you upside the wall with its…"

Dean paused and Sam knew why. The creature was at the far end of weird. Added to its lack of eyes and yet amazing accuracy, it as well had a sickening combination of webbed fingers and eagle talons that it was using to fight them with. The two hunters had managed to avoid any serious contact with the creature until it got the drop on Sam, and not only caused the young Winchester to crack his head against the hard ground, but as well get one of the surprisingly sharp talons to the back of the neck.

"I'm alright," Sam insisted again, "Just tired."

"Maybe you shouldn't sleep," Dean frowned, "At least not until we know what this thing was, or how it's going to affect you."

"Good night Dean," Sam said definitively.

He heard no response as Sam drifted off to sleep.

~S~

Sam came to slowly, but almost immediately knew something was off. He sat up in the darkness and struggled to adjust his eyes to his surroundings. He first noticed that he was sleeping in a chair, with the next realization being that of a pain in his neck.

"What…" Sam whispered, feeling the warm stickiness of blood crawling down from a wound.

His eyes widened in surprise again as he felt something else, and his first move was to the bathroom. The obvious tell-tale signs of a hotel made it easy to track down the bathroom through the door right next to where he had been sleeping, and Sam went inside and flicked on the light.

"Crap!" Sam's voice was loud in the small and quiet bathroom.

His mouth hanging a gap, Sam looked at his reflection. He looked the same as usual except for one distinct difference.

"My hair…" Sam whispered now has he brushed his shaking hand through the short locks.

Dean had always hated his hair long, and so because of this Sam made a point of letting it grow to 'unreasonable' lengths. Now, however, it was short; not even hitting his shoulders, with his bangs… what bangs? Sam pulled at them, and found his hair didn't even cover his eyes if he tried. His glance moved to his face as he simultaneously moved his hand over his mouth and chin.

"What the hell…"

His face was completely smooth. He hadn't had a clean shave in months; not since the world started to go to hell in a hand basket again. He hadn't seen the point in trying to look young anymore when he felt so old on the inside. But now… now his face was young again.

"What's going on?" Sam spoke to himself as he grabbed a nearby washcloth and held it to the back of his neck.

He stood there staring at what he realized was now a much younger reflection of himself for what must have been fifteen minutes. The only thing that shocked him out of his trance was the calling if his name.

"_Sam!?_"

It was Dean.

Quickly Sam opened the door, eager to see something familiar. Upon doing so, Dean stood there with an expression combined of confusion, worry and anger. Sam struggled to think why, and couldn't remember where he was, never mind what he was supposed to have been doing.

"What the hell Sam?" Dean spoke, anger becoming the prominent emotion.

"W-What…" Sam swallowed hard.

"You were supposed to be watching him!" Dean pointed accusingly to the other room, "And you let him get away?"

"Who?" Sam whispered, his neck beginning to throb as he held the cloth there.

Dean frowned, "Jimmy?"

Sam returned the look, "Who?"

"Sam, are you okay?" Dean's voice suddenly changed to worried big brother.

"I'm fine," Sam nodded, forcing his brain to work.

_Who the hell was Jimmy?_

"Sam listen," Dean explained more calmly, "I know something has been going on with you lately. I don't know what, and at this point I don't care. But we have to keep Jimmy safe. If those demons get wind that Cass took a one way ticket back up to heaven, leaving his vessel behind, they're going to come and figure out everything he knows."

Sam's eyes widened suddenly. He remembered this! Cass had left his vessel, and the man who had taken over, Jimmy, was left wandering around trying to find his way back to his family. Sam also simultaneously felt and remembered what Dean meant when he spoke of something being wrong with Sam. The slow, building up watering in the back of his mouth was sickeningly familiar, and growing with intensity as the seconds passed. Sam both loved and feared the feeling; the craving.

Demon blood.

"Crap…" Sam attempted to swallow back the feeling; the last thing he needed now was to be distracted by demon blood, or prematurely get locked up in Bobby's safe room.

Bobby!

Bobby was still alive!

Sam didn't even realize he had half collapsed onto the sink until he felt Dean's hands and heard his voice, "Whoa, whoa Sam!"

Sam blinked hard up at his brother. What the hell was going on?

"Dean…?"

"Take it easy Sammy," Dean pulled his brother up to his full position, and on doing so noticed the blood covered cloth in his hand, "What the hell happened?"

"I don't know," Sam answered honestly, his world spinning.

"Where'd the blood come from?" panic raised in Dean's voice.

"My neck."

"Sammy turn around," Dean ordered as he twisted Sam's body around to get a better look.

Sam stood there, as his brother gently prodded the wound on his neck which he had gotten from the creature. Mentally Sam tried to figure out what year it was, and had it calculated at about five years before the time it was supposed to be. Dean had come back from hell, Bobby was still alive, Ruby was still alive, and… Sam squeezed his eyes shut… the demon blood.

"Sam, what attacked you?" Dean questioned moving back around to look him in the eyes.

Sam shook his head and again answered honestly, "I don't know."

"Well just sit down for a minute," Dean's brow was crinkled in concern, "I'm gonna go grab the first aid kit, patch you up, and then we can go find Jimmy."

Sam solemnly nodded his head and did what he was told. As he sat on the closed toilet seat, he tried to think rationally of the situation. Maybe this was all just a really weird dream? But usually when you dream a memory, you don't change events like this.

'_Maybe I was sent back in time,'_ Sam thought to himself, '_It's happened before. But why only five years? And to this day? What am I supposed to do here?_'

Before he could self-analyze any more, Dean walked in the door. Injuries were nothing the Winchester's weren't familiar with, and so Dean made quick work at patching up the large, deep laceration on the back of his brother's neck.

"This may need stitches Sammy," Dean frowned, "I'll check it again in a few hours."

Sam nodded, "Alright."

"Let's go find Jimmy," Dean clapped Sam on the shoulder, "At least we know where he's headed."

The two packed up their things and headed to the Impala. Sam felt himself beginning to lose it as he struggled with having to deny his body of the demon blood it was craving and living through was seemed like a constant deja vous. They had been travelling for nearly an hour when Sam asked Dean to stop.

"Why?" Dean sighed dramatically, "Sam, we need to get to his family's place before he does. If the demons get a hold of them, they're not gonna hesitate killing them."

"Please," Sam's whole body shook, "Please Dean… I need… I need to go to the bathroom."

His hand went down to his jacket pocket and felt the comforting outline of a small flask. Again Dean sighed and pulled into a twenty-four hour gas station.

"You got five minutes Sam, and then I'm serious; I'm leaving your ass here."

Sam wordlessly nodded and got out of the car. He bee-lined for the bathroom and went inside; not even bothering to lock the door. With trembling hands he pulled out the silver flask and poured some of the contents into the palm of his hand.

Demon blood.

Sucking in the warm liquid, Sam closed his eyes in relief. Suddenly nothing seemed to matter anymore as a satisfying, euphoric feeling of warmth washed itself over Sam's entire body. His eyes rolling in his head in pleasure, Sam wondered how he could ever have stopped this. It gave him such strength… such power… such…

"Sammy," the voice was rough and ominous sounding, "Having a little nip are you?"

Sam swung around and saw a man in his mid-forties wearing an old jogging suit. His hair was salt and pepper, and his eyes were shinning black.

"Where's Jimmy?" the demon questioned right away.

Anger washed through Sam's face, "I will send you back to hell."

Though Sam could have done so in mere seconds when he was in this situation the first time around, he had a momentary laps in ability. Just long enough for the demon to crack him upside the head with the tire iron that Sam hadn't even noticed was in his hand. Sam was knocked unconscious before he knew what had happened.

to be continued...


	2. 20 Years Old

_Disclaimer:__ Hells no._

_A/N:__ Hey y'all! Haha, I'll take three reviews; gotta start somewhere right! This chapter is much longer than the last one. I was having lots of fun exploring emotions; it's way more interesting that I initially thought! I hope you guys like it and will continue reviewing (and tell your friends to, haha!). It shouldn't be too much longer until the next chapter. Enjoy!_

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Sam woke up much quicker this time, his heart pounding. He shot up in bed, his eyes continuing to squeeze shut; maybe everything had been a dream. A wild dream about being twenty-five and addicted to demon blood again. Sam had just started to convince himself of this when a soft voice spoke up from beside him.

"Sam?"

'_That's not Dean,_' Sam gasped, '_God please… no, no, no…_'

"Sammy?" the voice spoke again, followed this time by a small light being turned on.

Sam dared to look over and saw the confused face of a beautiful blonde. Immediate tears pricked at his eyes.

"Jess," Sam whispered, pulled back the covers, and stepping out of bed, "No…"

"Sam, what's wrong?" Jessica immediately followed in suite getting out of bed, and rounding it to her boyfriend.

"Jess, you can't be here," Sam felt the tears pooling in his eyes.

He wouldn't… couldn't see Jessica get killed again by that evil sonofabitch. His head spun as Sam tried to figure out when he was. If he went back another five years, that would make him only twenty; a full two years before the horrifying night that changed Sam forever. But nevertheless, just looking at her beautiful, flawless face, Sam could only remember her pinned to the ceiling, blooding dripping…

"No Jess," Sam put out his arms to stop her.

"Sam, what's wrong?" Jessica frowned, "You're scaring me."

Sam put his hand to the back of his neck, and felt the blood come away. It hadn't been a dream. This was really happening, and Sam knew he had to figure it out soon because if he kept going back in time, he'd soon reach a point where he wouldn't exist.

"What happened?" Jessica's panicked voice spoke suddenly, "Sam, you're bleeding!"

"I…" Sam breathed hard staring down at the blood, "Yeah… I'm-I'm alright. I-I have to go."

"Sam, wait!" Jessica touched Sam's arm.

The tears finally gave way, and Sam squeezed his eyes shut. He wished he could stay in that moment forever. Jessica Moore's hand touching his arm. Alive. Breathing. There. He wanted to curl back into bed with her, hold her close and never let go. But he couldn't.

"I have to go," Sam whispered out, pulling away.

"Sammy…" Jessica now had select tears rolling down her face, "I don't understand…"

Sam took one large step away before turning around and looking at the girlfriend… fiancé… which he hadn't seen alive in nine years. What would life be like if the Yellow Eyed Demon hadn't come? They'd be married now, that's for sure. Would he be a lawyer? Would they have kids, and their own house? Would Sam still be a part of the hunting world? Would he be happy?

"Jess…" Sam suddenly grabbed her in his arms, and kissed her with more passion than he knew possible before moving back away, "I love you… and I will until the day I die."

Without waiting for a reply Sam left quickly through the apartment he vaguely remembered from his Stanford years. He didn't realize he was still in his sleeping bottoms and t-shirt until he was already on the street. He didn't care though; he had to figure this out.

"Dad," Sam stopped suddenly, "Dad's alive."

He knew he needed to get a hold of someone, but didn't know who. He was just about at a payphone, and was going to call his father when he realized something. He and John had the fight to be all fights only a couple of years back. If he tried calling him, would John even answer the phone, never mind listen to him? Instead another idea came to Sam, and he pressed in the numbers that he was impressed he still remembered as his brother's cell phone from so long ago.

"'ello?" Dean's familiar voice slurred over the phone.

Sam glanced down at his watch; crap! It was only three in the morning.

"Dean?" Sam felt relief still that he'd answered.

There was a long pause before a much more awake voice spoke, "Sam?"

"Yeah, it's me," Sam ran a hand through his hair.

What was his and Dean's relationship like back then? He tried to remember his Stanford days, but could only recall copious amounts of studying followed by random binge drinking.

"Sammy, what's wrong?" Dean's voice sounded worried, and Sam wondered briefly why.

'_No wonder! I never called him my entire time at school, and now suddenly I am in the middle of the night._'

"I don't have time to explain on the phone," Sam spoke urgently, his mind racing with his plan, "Is…" Sam was forced to clear his throat, "Is Dad with you?"

"Kind of," Dean replied, "He's out on a hunt tonight, but should be back by morning. Sam what's going on?"

"I'm heading to South Dakota," Sam was suddenly glad he'd grabbed his wallet on his way out of the apartment from Jess, "To Bobby's. Can you guys make it there?"

"What?" Dean's voice went up two octaves, "Sam, what the hell are you talking about? We haven't seen Bobby in… like ten years; at least! Why the hell are you going there? What's going on Sammy? Talk to me."

"I can't explain it right now," Sam, despite talking on a phone, shook his head, and felt the pain throbbing from his neck, "But I know Bobby can help. Can you guys meet me there? _Please_."

There was a long pause before Dean spoke again, his voice hushed and scared, "Of course Sammy. I'll be there. I don't know about Dad; he and Bobby didn't exactly end on good terms. But I'll be there. When are you going Sam?"

"I'm heading to the airport right after I hang up with you," Sam sighed in relief; he really wanted his brother there, "I'm catching the first flight there."

"Alright," Dean agreed, "I'll see you soon Sammy."

The next several hours went by quickly, however gave Sam time to think. The plane ride to South Dakota was a few hours long from California, and Sam spent the time writing in a notebook that he'd purchased at the airport. He wrote down everything he could remember happening; from him and Dean fighting the bizarre, eye-less creature to waking up when Castiel had left his vessel, to now waking up beside Jessica. Through this Sam was able to figure out two important facts; if he lost consciousness, he'd go back in time, and each time this happened it appeared to be in five year leaps.

This in turn left Sam with some very worrying realizations. He knew that he only had a limited window; he couldn't stay awake forever, and in their line of work, getting knocked out cold seemed to happen a surprising amount. As well, the younger his body became, the more difficult it was going to become to figure things out.

"If this happens again," Sam spoke to himself as he left the airport in Bismarck, "I'll be fifteen. Damn it."

He was going to have a hard enough time convincing someone what was happening now, never mind when he when he was a teenager.

When Sam was twenty years old the first time around, he had stolen only two cars his entire life; one in an emergency, and one at the insistence of Dean saying he needed to know how. In the ten years that followed, Sam lost count at how many he stole. Though one of the more undesirable traits he had learned, Sam was glad of it now as he easily snagged a car in the airport parking lot, and hightailed it towards Bobby's.

Sam was knocking on the door within two hours.

"Who is it?" a gruff voice called from behind the door.

A smile immediately lit Sam's face, "It's me!"

"Who the hell is me?"

_Crap! He won't recognize my voice…_

"Sam," he paused a moment, "Sam Winchester?"

The door opened up, and Sam nearly gasped. Not only was Bobby gloriously alive in front of him, but he was a much younger Bobby than Sam had etched in his brain. Apparently an impending apocalypse and spending time in hell aged a person.

"God… Bobby," Sam wanted desperately to reach out and hug the man, but knew better at the moment.

Bobby frowned, "Sam? Is that you?"

Sam nodded, "Yessir."

"It's been years!" a small smile broke the man's face, "What the hell are you do'n here?" he looked behind Sam, "Where's your brother and that idjit father of yours?"

Sam looked behind him as well, "Umm, Dean is coming, I think. I'm not sure about Dad."

Bobby frowned, immediately sensing something was wrong, "Come on in boy."

Sam walked inside, and breathed in the familiar smells. Though Bobby had changed significantly, his house sure hadn't; books were stacked along walls, and papers strewn across every open table and desk. Sam desperately hoped that one of them would have information on the creature that had attacked him.

"Sit down," Bobby motioned to the couch, "Want a beer?"

"Yeah, sure," Sam nodded and sat down, swallowing the curious lump that had formed in his throat.

Bobby returned from the kitchen with two bottles in hand; passing one to Sam with a comment as to the legality of being able to drink alcohol, and taking the other for himself as he sat across from him. Bobby watched suspiciously as Sam took a sip.

"Thanks Bobby," Sam smirked slightly, "You can quit watching me. I'm not a demon…"

Bobby's mouth opened slightly, "How the hell did you know—"

"That you put holy water in this?" Sam smiled fully now, "Because you did that to me before."

Bobby opened his mouth to comment, but closed it with a shake of his head.

Sam took a deep breath at this, "Bobby… I need to tell you something. It's pretty nuts, but I really hope you'll believe me."

With that Sam began telling Bobby everything. Undeniable relief and hopefulness washed through Sam as he realized right off the bat that Bobby didn't think he was crazy. On the contrary the elder hunter sat listening intently as Sam told him everything, nodding every so often with a look of seriousness plastered on his face.

"I didn't know who else to talk to," Sam finished off in a quiet desperation, "I mean… I know Dad is a good hunter, but he doesn't have all the information that you have. And I don't even know if he'd talk to me right now he's so pissed at me."

Bobby again nodded thoughtfully, "Alright Sam."

"Can you hel—"

Sam was interrupted by a sudden knock at the door.

"Dean?" Bobby smiled.

Sam returned the grin and nodded, getting up. He answered the door, and took a moment to register Dean standing there. Though his brother hadn't changed dramatically since the time he was seventeen, seeing Dean ten years younger than he was used to still shocked him slightly.

"Sammy?" Dean spoke tentatively.

"You're twenty-four," Sam stupidly stated.

"I'm twenty-four?" Dean crinkled his face, creating the lines that in only a few years would become permanent, "Sam, what the hell is going on?"

Sam stepped aside, and Dean walked in. Pausing in front of Sam, Dean grabbed his face in one hand gently and forced his brother to look into his eyes.

"Are you hurt?"

Sam nearly laughed at this, "You have no idea Dean."

Dean was about to make a retort when he saw Bobby walk over.

"Bobby!" Dean grinned, "Hi!"

"Dean," Bobby nodded in acknowledgment, "Your brother has an interesting…" he paused in search of an appropriate word, "Predicament. Your Dad come?"

Dean shook his head, "No. His hunt lasted longer than he thought; some ghoul in the moor back in Colorado."

"Well come sit down," Bobby gestured towards the living room, "We'll fill you in."

The process went by quicker this time as Dean made no interruptions, and only stared at Sam with a blank look on his face. Sam knew immediately it was going to be harder to convince his brother of what was going on.

Dean half laughed when Sam had finished, "You're kidding right? This is what you and your buddies do at school? Sit around thinking of these stupid games to play on people?"

Sam sighed, and wordlessly swiveled on the couch so his back was to his brother. He then removed the bandage he had put on the laceration on his neck; something he could feel even after all this time was still bleeding.

"What the hell Sammy!" Dean's panicked voice was bizarrely satisfying, "What happened?"

Sam looked over, and saw Bobby get up and leave the room saying he was grabbing a medical kit. Dean looked like he had just been slapped in the face as most of the color had faded from his features.

"Dean it's from the… creature. Or whatever the hell it was that attacked me," Sam's voice pleaded for any sign of believing him.

Dean's voice was quiet when he spoke, "You're serious? This… this isn't a joke or something?"

Sam gave a small laugh, "Dude, if I was going to make a joke, don't you think it would be a little better than this?"

Dean ran his hand across his face, "So what? You just keep on going backwards in time? How many times has it happened?"

"Twice."

"So you're you," Dean gestured up and down his brother's gangly body, "But… not?"

"I'm me," Sam agreed, "But I'm me from ten years from now."

Dean laughed in disbelief, "C'mon Sam. You look a bit older than when I saw you last, but not ten years."

Sam shook his head, "No. My body is the same as it should be right now. But in my head I'm the me from ten years from now."

"This is a whole other kind of crazy Sam," Dean's voice went back to quiet, "Even for us."

Bobby re-entered the room at that point with medical supplies in hand. He wasted no time going to the younger Winchester and delicately fixing up the wound that seemed very fresh on the back of his neck.

"Bobby?" Dean looked pleadingly up at the man, "Please. You gotta have something here?"

Bobby cleared his throat and spoke thoughtfully, "There's a few things. But not many. Being sent back in time isn't any monsters usual MO, it's usually a bad side effect. I can think of about three off the top of my head which might be worth looking into, but it's a long shot. And it's gonna take lots of research through this old house."

"Well… let's get to work," Dean clapped Sam on his shoulder affectionately.

Sam smiled.

"And get you some coffee," Bobby said pointedly, "Because if what you say is true, the next time you fall into lala land, you're starting this all over again."

By this point it was already one in the afternoon, and Sam could feel the early symptoms of his body crying out for a nap of some sort; more so than he thought should be happening. But he knew he couldn't do this—not when he finally had started to make headway on figuring out what was happening to him.

"A Sight Demon?" Dean spoke up nine hours later, surrounded by books, coffee and pizza.

"What's that one?" Bobby questioned.

"Uhh…" Dean looked down at the old book in front of him and read from it, "_Tracks its victims with its powerful psychic powers… tall body with sharp claws… can alter time and place of victim upon looking at it with its large, bright purple eyes…._?"

"Nope," Sam shook his head, "This thing had no eyes. And it had talons, not claws."

"Okay college boy, what's the difference?" Dean frowned in frustration; they were getting nowhere with this.

"Claws dog, talons bird."

"Y'know if this is the way you're gonna be in ten years…" Dean smirked.

"Drop it boys," Bobby spoke up, "And keep looking. We're on a time limit here."

Sam had to agree on that one. He alone had drank over a full pot of coffee, and despite that, was struggling to keep his eyes open; whatever the thing had done to him, it was not only causing his time jumping, but making it impossible to stay awake. His head pounded viciously beneath his temples, and the more they searched for whatever had done this to him, the further they seemed to be getting. Another four hours slipped by in silence before Bobby spoke up.

"A Quartz."

Dean and Sam stared at each other briefly.

"Bobby?" Dean said, "Are you alright? 'Cause I don't think Sammy was attacked by a giant rock."

"Mineral," Sam instinctively corrected.

Bobby rolled his eyes, "Not that kind of Quartz you idiots. It's a creature that attacks people, and sends them on an arduous trip back in time. But it's never been hunted… or even seen for that matter in hundreds of years. Apparently its victims don't usually get the chance to live and tell the tale."

"What's it look like?" Sam let out a large yawn, put down his book and moved over to where Bobby was.

"Iridescent skin," Bobby read from the book, "It's apparently semi-aquatic, so it's got webbed hands and feet, and no eyes. It has a sonar system that gives it perfect ability to figure out its surroundings though, even out of water."

"That's why it was so accurate," Sam felt his heart lurch, "Bobby, I think that's it! But talons… does it say anything about talons?"

Bobby quickly scanned down the page, "Yes. Apparently they have three hallow talons on each so-called hand. There's a poison gland in their wrist that comes out of the talon. That's how they kill their victims."

"Then how come Sammy isn't dead?" Dean had walked over now, "I mean, it got him pretty good in the neck."

"I don't know," Bobby shook his head, "This is way over my head. Like I said; the victims of this thing usually aren't able to recount what happened. And there's not many witnesses left either. That's all it says about it."

"How do I stop this?" Sam had panic in his voice, "I can't stay awake too much longer. And this is all going to be a hell of a lot harder to convince you guys when I'm fifteen. And then we'll have to start the research all over again."

"No we won't," Bobby disagreed, "We know what the thing is. You're that much more ahead of the game. I just need time to figure out how the hell to stop this thing."

Sam could feel his eyelids getting heavy; whatever this thing did to him, it made sure he couldn't stay awake much longer than twenty-four hours. He knew it was just a matter of time before he was going to drift off, and he had to make it as easy as possibly to start figuring out to get rid of the Quartz when he came to again.

"Bobby," Sam could feel his world spinning, and all he wanted to do was close his eyes, "Is there anything I can say to you to make it easier next time? To make sure you believe me?"

Bobby thought about this before sighing, "Damn it boy… I just wish we had more time."

"I know," Sam nodded, "So do I. But Bobby, I don't."

Dean had placed a hand on Sam's arm at this point, and was staring worriedly at Bobby.

"Five years?" Bobby mumbled to himself, "You'll be fifteen. Oh! Tell me that Karen and I's anniversary is on March 12th. I've never told anyone that. It should get my attention, or get me shooting at you. Hopefully not the ladder."

Sam smiled, "Alright. And it's called a Quartz?"

"Yes," Bobby nodded, "And I think Rufus has some more books that might have information on it."

"M'kay…" Sam felt his voice slurring as he slid back more on the sofa.

"Sammy?" Dean helped lower his brother into a laying down position, "Sammy, don't worry. We'll figure this out. You can come to me. I'll always believe you."

Sam's eyelids drooped slowly closed as he mumbled, "Thanks Dean… I love you…"

To be continued…


	3. 15 Years Old

_Disclaimer:__ One day… many, many years ago… when I was but a child, I wrote my first story for this site. I decided it would be cool to write a 'funny' or 'witty' to say __**no**__ for not only every story, but for every chapter of every story I wrote… I was a stupid child..._

_A/N:__ Isn't it ironic that it takes me longer to post the shorter chapter than it did for the longer one? My only excuse is that I went back to my parents place because I was in a wedding. But still this didn't take too long to post, and this is a very intense, quick paced chapter. The next chapter hopefully will be up relatively soon. I'm enjoying writing this story. _

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"He's dead! Dad, he's dead!"

The scream of terror shook Sam's world, and for a brief moment he thought that Dean had maybe left the tv on when they went to sleep. That moment lasted less than a second when he realized with a start that it was Dean's voice that was shouting.

"_Dean! Stop!_"

The second voice was that of his Dad's, and Sam forced his eyes open. He immediately closed them again as rain splattered down onto his face. Carefully he rolled over, and pain exploded throughout his body.

"No," Sam gasped, in a half crawling position, "No…"

He knew right away where he was and when. He had been injured many times growing up from both hunting and training, but nothing had ever been as bad as the day they'd went after what they thought was a simple spirit in some thick woods in Wyoming. Sam had been caught off guard by what turned out to be banshee, and had nearly died. It was only after a four hour long operation to fix his ruptured spleen and two broken arms, and then four months of recovery at Bobby's that he'd been well enough to go back out into the field.

"Dad, I have to find him!" Dean's voice was getting closer.

"Dean…" Sam mumbled, his eyes squeezed shut in pain, "Dean!"

Suddenly someone skidded to a stop beside him in the wet leaves and moss.

"_Dad, I found him!_" Sam flinched at Dean's loud voice.

"Dean," Sam gasped, cocking his head to the side and looking at his brother, "Dean… Quartz."

"Shh, Sammy, e-everything is going to be okay," Dean had a hand on Sam's back and was attempting to keep him still, "You're going to be alright. Just lay still."

"No Dean," Sam moved against his brother's grip so he could face him, "S-something is wrong."

Before any reply came, Sam got sick onto the ground; red blood splattering against the forest floor.

"Oh God," Dean gasped, tears streaking down his face, "_Dad! Hurry, please!_"

"Dean, you have to listen to me," Sam gripped his brother's arm

Dean stared down at Sam; blood covered his entire face, and his body looked like it had gone through nine rounds of boxing. And they were still so far away from the road! Why the hell did they bring Sammy with them; he was still too young.

"Sam," Dean's whole body and voice shook, "You gotta lay still buddy…"

"_Dean! Sammy!_" John came rushing into the scene eyes wide before halting to a terrifying stop, "Oh God…"

"Dad he's hurt bad," Dean looked pleadingly at his father.

"I know," John delicately wiped some of the blood from Sam's face, "I know son. It'll be okay." He turned his attention to his youngest son, "Sammy… can you hear me?"

Sam was momentarily caught in a whirlwind of emotions. The pain that coursed through his body was worse than he remembered it ever being; possibly because of the extra movement he was doing this time around. However none of that mattered as he stared into the frantic eyes of his Dad. He never thought he'd see the green eyes again, and wanted badly to hug his Dad, apologize for everything he'd ever done or said, and never let go of the moment.

"Dad…" Sam felt the warm blood coming out of the corner of his mouth.

A forced smile came to John's face, "Anything to get out of a hunt, huh Sammy?"

Sam swallowed hard, tasting the coppery blood go down his throat, "Dad… please… you gotta help me."

"I will Sammy, I will," John assured, "You're going to be okay."

For a split second Sam thought his Dad knew what he was talking about. But then realization occurred that they were more concern about him not dying on the way to the hospital. He remembered this; this was one of only three times he remembered ever seeing his Dad cry. But that wouldn't happen until they got to the car…

"No Dad…" Sam began before quickly getting sick again on the ground.

"Dean, we have to carry him," John spoke to his eldest now, urgency in his voice, "Help me."

The movements were awkward, and caused Sam to cry out more than once in pain. But within less than a minute Sam's upper body was supported by his Dad, and his legs gripped securely by Dean.

"Easy, easy!" John demanded as they began to walk, "One step at a time Dean."

Sam's head was pressed against his father's leather jacket, and for nearly five minutes, Sam gave in to the situation, and concentrated on the familiar smell of his Dad, and the rain the continued to fall down on the trio. The situation was bad, Sam knew that, but he couldn't waste this time without trying to get some information. Once at the car everything would go downhill fast.

"Dad," Sam spoke up finally, his energy coming in small spurts.

"Sammy don't talk," John's voice broke, "Just try and save your strength."

Sam painfully shook his head; pain radiating through him at the movement, "No. I need… need to ask… please Dad…"

"Sam, please!" Dean talked now, his voice pleading.

"Quartz," Sam's spoke out in a pained breath.

Against his will, Sam's eyes closed as dizziness threatened to cause him to get sick again.

"He said that before," Dean quickened the pace at his brother's weakening state, "Dad, what's he talking about?"

"I don't know," John brushed this off, looking in the distance, "Easy now Dean, don't jostle him too much. We're almost there."

Sam let the tears fall down his face. Not only from the pain that he was feeling, but as well the frustration. How much harder was this going to be when he was only ten? This was his last good opportunity to get some answers on how to stop what was happening to him, and he just happen to fall into this particular time. Nearly five minutes later he could feel their momentum coming to a slow as they reached the edge of the woods. He knew what would happen soon and so gave his attempt one last shot.

"Quartz… Dad please," Sam saw black spots dancing in front of his face, and his heart began to hammer.

"Dad?" Dean could sense the urgency in his little brother's voice, and knew there was something behind the one word he kept saying.

"I don't know," John frowned as they reached the Impala, "Dean, I don't know what he's talking about."

Dean slowly placed Sam's feet on the ground as he opened the back door to the car, "What is a Quartz?"

John's face looked pained as he attempted to assess the situation in front of him, and figure out what both of his sons seemed so curious about, "Other than a mineral? I don't know. The only time I've ever heard of that is when Caleb was talking about a water demon called a Fortuna. Quartz was another name for it."

The words had no sooner entered Sam's head than it happened. He remembered this. His chest suddenly felt as if someone was crushing it, pushing all the breath out of his body. His heart hammered painfully as Sam's eyes opened wide.

Then nothing but his Dad.

John had tears coming down his rough face.

Sam would find out later that his heart stopped on the old back road in Wyoming, and it was only after John Winchester performed CPR that they brought him back alive and got him to the hospital. But none of this mattered now. The petrified look on his Dad's face was the last thing that Sam saw before losing consciousness.

…to be continued…


End file.
